by Elena Wilkes
‘Yep, great. See you later, then.’ He didn’t pause to look up.
I went down the stairs, my hands shaking as I attempted to press the exit button. He must have seen her, surely? I had visions of her standing on the other side of the door, waiting. Would I challenge her? What would I say?
Hardly daring to glance round, I made a beeline for my car, blipping it unlocked and sliding clumsily into the driver’s seat. The mirrors revealed nothing. Where had she gone? There was just a guy getting out of his car and an older woman loading her boot with bags. What did she want? The old grind of insecurity started up again in my gut. Part of me wanted desperately to confront her but the other part…
Shaking the dread away, I managed to start the engine and find reverse. Checking the rear-view mirror, I looked out across the bonnet and there she was. My heart lurched. She was on the phone, strolling between the parked cars, frowning and checking the screen, redialling, and trying again. She looked round quickly and suddenly our eyes met in the mirror. I couldn’t look away. Her hand holding the phone dropped and she began to walk towards me. I panicked; my legs shook as I jerked the car into gear, almost stalling the engine. I was aware of her steady gaze as I pulled forward out of the parking space.
I shot a look again, terrified that she was going to walk right over and knock on the window and force me to speak. But she just stood there on the pavement watching me, unmoving and impassive – a terrifying blankness in her gaze.
No, no. Please, no. I saw my life unravelling as I almost skidded out onto the main road and drove, my brain scrambling and a thumping pain tightening horribly in the back of my throat. I’m such a coward, why didn’t I speak to her? I willed myself not to cry. I wasn’t going to become hysterical; I would talk to Paul about it, rationally and calmly. I would ask him. I would ask the questions and make him confess to what was going on. If I know, then I can handle it, if I know, then I can deal with it.
I had no idea where I was going. I found myself sitting in the car on a street in Camden with no clue as to what I was doing there. I got out, walked blindly a little way along the street and turned around again. A newsagent had a board outside blaring the headline: New Leads in Cassie Edwards Case, but even that couldn’t distract me. I imagined her in the flat right now. In there. With Paul. I felt sick at the thought. Why had I driven away? What I really needed was to speak to him. I needed the reassurance of his voice telling me that I’d got this all wrong and there was no affair after all.
He’d lied about the photograph because he’d been scared and he’d panicked. He thought I’d walk out on him. This woman was mad. This woman was crazy. I should feel sorry for her, not threatened.
I sat in the car looking at the pad of speed-dial contacts with his name right at the top. My fingers found the number but the connection dropped into silence. I tried again. There was a long pause of emptiness, and then the automated message telling me that Paul’s phone was switched off but I was very welcome to leave a message. Not even his voice. Why had he changed the voicemail? I tried again. And then again.
I started the engine and drove slowly back to the flat, terrified of what I would find, trying him over and over on speakerphone, listening to some automated faceless woman telling me things that I really didn’t want to hear.
* * *
I stood in the centre of the lounge which was now topsy-turvy with packing stuff. The carpet was covered in footprints and bits of dirt. Empty boxes sat waiting to be filled. All the cases and black sacks had gone. Paul had gone. I walked into the kitchen and peered out of the open window. So had his car. I listened to the birds clamouring on the roof as I tried his phone over and over and still no answer. All I got was that depressing message that left me feeling irritated and angry and with a deep nagging sensation that something was seriously wrong.
And then my phone pinged. I pulled it from my pocket, glancing down. There was a video message from an unknown number. In the corner of the screen, a smiley face bobbed and waved. I clicked on it. The newspaper photograph of Cassie Edwards zoomed and blurred into view. My stomach somersaulted and the world around me went silent.
There was a pause and then a voice message icon popped up.
‘Now where have you been all this time Lucy?’ Simon Gould’s boyish voice giggled. ‘I told you I wanted to prove how good I am now, and then you go and disappear on me. This could all have been over much sooner if you hadn’t run away.’
There was a high-pitched cry off the microphone somewhere and I froze.
‘Just a minute, darling, I won’t be a minute.’ There was a shuffling rustle.
‘No one ever listens, do they, Lucy? Especially people like you with your treatment programmes and your leaflets and your challenging offending behaviour courses, busily patting each other on the back and talking about how successful you are at changing people like me—’
The phone shook wildly in my hand.
‘Simon? Simon…’ I whispered. ‘What the hell have you done?’
I heard him let out an astonished whistle and he chuckled. ‘They thought they could change me. Of course, that’s just arrogance talking.’
I heard the child say something. I could hear my own heartbeat. I closed my eyes.
‘I do what I do, not because I’ve been abused, or I have a mental illness, or some kind of addiction. I do what I do because I enjoy it.’ His voice slid inside my head and the message ended.
I opened my eyes as it hit me: He couldn’t have this number, could he? It was a different phone. There was no way. Cassie Edwards’s smiling face froze on the screen for a second and then a box popped up. ‘This message has been deleted,’ it said.
My mouth fell open.
He was gone.
* * *
‘Viv?’
‘Oh! Luce—’
‘Viv, Gould has just sent me a message: a voice message. He has that little girl.’
‘Lucy…’
‘Viv. You know what kind of person I am. I don’t make stuff like this up. Gould is clever. He’s covered his tracks. As soon as I played it, it—’
‘But I’m standing here looking at him, Lucy.’
‘What?’
‘I’m doing a filmed supervision of Dave Cartwright running the weekend sex offender group. Gould is sitting right on the other side of this window. I only left the room and answered because I saw it was you.’
‘No, that’s not possible Viv… No. It must’ve been a timed sending or something… Look, interrogate my phone; you’ll see it on the call log. I’m not wrong Viv, he has that little girl!’ I suddenly realised I’d raised my voice. She went quiet for a few seconds.
‘Go to the police, report it, get it on file, and when you’ve done that—’
I found I was breathing hard.
‘You need to talk to someone, Lucy,’ she said gently. ‘I want to see you first thing on Monday morning.’
‘It was Gould, Viv. It was him. It was him again.’
‘Lucy, I haven’t said anything before because… Well, I didn’t want to freak you out. But the police said they weren’t able to connect Gould with any of the calls that were made to your phone. Now I know what you’re going to say, but you just need to—’
I didn’t care about what I needed to do. I wasn’t listening.
‘He has the little girl.’
‘Lucy?’
Her voice seemed very far away. ‘Lucy? Can you hear me? Are you still there?’
* * *
You are totally alone. No one believes you.
If I couldn’t go to the police, where else could I go? I couldn’t phone Emma; I knew she’d run to Viv, so there was no one. No one.
The only person – the only person who would know what to do was Paul. But Paul, the man who I was supposed to trust, who I was supposed to depend on, was where? And with who? I had this sudden, agonising thought that he would take her to the house. I drove there slowly. His car wasn’t in the drive. I pulled into the empty spa
ce, not knowing what else to do or where else to go.
The house looked blankly down, offering no answers. I switched off the engine, listening to the twittering tumble of birds fighting in the bushes. A black cat slunk warily across the garden and disappeared into a hedge as a diesel engine roared and a white removal van lurched round the corner. Paul’s car was following. He pulled up behind me and leapt out.
‘Christ, it’s been completely mental on the roads this morning!’ He came up to my door and stood there, expectantly. ‘Why didn’t you answer your phone? I’ve been ringing you. I’ve still got bits back at the flat but I needed to let these guys in. I didn’t know you were coming.’
‘Paul—’
He glanced up at the slam of the removal van doors opening. ‘Your stuff is here too. So I take it no curtains then?’ he laughed. ‘What are you like?’ He began to walk away. ‘It’ll have to be blankets. If we leave the washing machine outside as well the neighbours will think we’ve been re-housed by the council… Anything you want me to do?’ He called out to one of the removal guys.
‘Paul!’
‘What?’ He turned, smiling.
‘I need to talk to you about what’s happened this morning.’
I watched the smile fall. I tried to assemble my thoughts. A whole raft of things went through my head: you know what he’s going to say, you know he’ll be angry. Do you really want to do this?
‘Simon Gould contacted me. He has Cassie Edwards. He just sent me a voice message. I heard her.’
The relief of not mentioning Caitlin flooded through me.
‘What the—?’ He glanced back at the removers unloading the van and then to me. ‘Show me.’
‘I can’t.’ I was feeble and shaky.
‘What do you mean, you can’t? What did he say?’
I shook my head, terrified that I’d start to cry. ‘The message deleted.’ I pulled the phone from my pocket and showed him the unknown number. ‘See? I phoned Viv. Viv said it couldn’t be Gould because he was sitting right there in front of her…’ I stared off, blinking the tears away. I wasn’t going to tell him what the police had said to her. ‘I think I’m going mad—’
The thoughts of Caitlin and Simon Gould and a little blonde girl lurched through my mind.
‘Lucy,’ Paul cut across me. He touched the side of my face; his fingers were firm. ‘Look at me. This is Simon Gould we’re talking about. This is mega serious. We’re taking this to the police. It doesn’t matter what Viv says or doesn’t say. It’s not her call.’
‘But what proof have I got?’ I was frantic. ‘I need someone to examine this phone and without Viv’s support…’ I stared up at him. ‘We’ve been here before. I’m just some crazy cow. They’ll never believe me, will they?’
I looked up into the grey softness of his eyes as they assessed my face. He threaded his fingers into a curl of my hair.
‘I’ve told you, we will go to the police. We will report exactly what happened and we’ll hand it over to them. You’re going to do exactly what you did before, only this time we’re doing it together. You and me. We’re a team now, right?’
I nodded dully, opening my mouth, fearful, wanting to say the name ‘Caitlin’ but suddenly found I couldn’t. I closed it.
I stared at him; his eyes were piercingly clear and utterly truthful.
‘So we’ll go inside. We’ll make that telephone call, then we’ll put this out of our heads and we’ll enjoy the rest of today. Is that a deal?’ He took my hand.
My eyes were puffy and sore and I felt totally worn out. He drew me close, putting his arms around me. ‘Is that a deal?’
I nodded.
‘There is only you and me and today, and today is special. We’ll never get this time back. Look.’ He gestured to the beautiful grand old house. ‘This is us and this is ours. Our furniture is here, all your stuff. We’ve got loads to do. Now forget everything else. Aren’t you excited?’ He kissed me and I said I was. ‘Nothing bad can happen here. Only good things. Just look at it all. See?’
I looked at the house and I believed him. I so wanted to believe him.
* * *
We telephoned the police. I recounted the content of the message as accurately and precisely as I could.
I didn’t mention the last incident when Gould contacted me. I could tell by the officer’s tone that he already knew all about it. I ploughed on regardless, trying to stop my voice quavering, trying to present the facts and nothing else.
I ended the call to find Paul looking at me.
‘Is that done now?’
‘It’s done.’
‘You’ll go back into work on Monday. You’ll have a conversation with Viv, knowing in your own mind that you’ve followed protocol and it’s all logged and recorded. Now it’s down to you. I suggest we put all that behind us and enjoy the next few hours. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
Paul was at his funny and affectionate best. We went from room to room with the removal guys, him with an arm thrown round my shoulders, hugging me to him, willing me to forget what had happened and jolly me into feeling better.
‘Your furniture looks great in here, far better than mine will look… Yeah, brilliant! Let’s try that sofa just there… What do you think?’ His mood was infectious; I let his enthusiasm seep under my skin. One of the removal guys started to laugh and joke with me and I managed to join in. This morning hadn’t happened. I didn’t have to dwell on it. All I had to do was shut stuff out and open boxes. How difficult was that?
‘I’m betting you don’t hear from your friend for a while now.’
I looked up from a box I’d delved into. ‘Who, Emma?’
‘Yep. I think you’ll discover she’ll be a bit jealous. She won’t like the fact you’ve suddenly got all this—’ he cast a hand around. ‘I suspect that’s why she’s distanced herself from you in the last few weeks.’
I didn’t reply. I hadn’t told him about going out for lunch with her every day. I wasn’t sure why.
‘Actually, it’s probably me that’s been a bit distant.’
I could see by his face he was pleased.
That wasn’t a lie. We didn’t talk like we used to, that’s all. Of course I trusted her – just not quite as much.
‘Look what I’ve found!’ I pulled off a load of wrapping paper to reveal the little sand-filled souvenir. He took it carefully and put it on the fireplace.
‘Its new home,’ he grinned and started to whistle. He was happy, we’d moved on from the subject so why spoil it by explaining? What did telling him about lunch with Emma matter, really? It was only a little thing after all.
* * *
That night we lay in bed surrounded by the tall figures of still unpacked boxes looming around us like godmothers at a christening. The moonlight stretched in unfamiliar patches on the walls. It was quiet here. Far quieter than we were used to and I was too wound up to sleep. I couldn’t stop the thoughts about that little girl, about Gould, about Caitlin, from whirling round and round in my head.
‘We should get a dog,’ Paul said suddenly.
‘A what?’
‘A dog – as a housewarming present to ourselves. The garden’s got a wall around it. It’d be perfect.’
‘I thought you wouldn’t want one after…’ I remembered what he’d told me.
‘After what?’ His head shifted on the pillow.
‘Well, you had a dog before didn’t you?’
‘When I was a kid, yes. A Jack Russell my parents had. It was a horrible smelly thing.’
‘No, I meant… before, before…’
His head rustled against the pillow and he rested his cheek against my temple. ‘No. I always worked long hours so it never seemed fair. It’s not right to leave a young dog all day.’
I frowned a little and stared up at the ceiling. A car headlight stuttered through the tree branches and then melted into a corner.
‘Unless you were thinking of giving up work for any reason.’ I hea
rd the smile in his voice. I turned slightly to face him.
‘What do you mean?’
He pulled me onto my side and lay with one arm crooked under his head and the other draped across my hips. His erection pressed into my thigh.
‘What d’you think I mean?’
‘I thought—?’
‘Maybe that’s the problem. Too much thinking.’
‘But—’
He put a finger to my lips. ‘I hate the thought of being on some kind of life route-march. Why don’t we just let go? Let fate decide. See what happens. If it does it does, if it doesn’t, well—’
I stood at a crossroads. My future, the possibility of my future, lay one way: the house, the husband, the children – the dog leaping around that magical secret garden. And the other path? The other was full of darkness and uncertainty. The foundations of my old life were cracking and shifting under my feet: my lovely flat, my friend, even my job had drifted away and now I was out and floating in an endless sea of suspicion, questioning everyone and everything – But the overwhelming terror this all brought, was the feeling of never, ever, being at peace.
We kissed deeply. Everything else around me disappeared. There was only us, set adrift, the soft rhythm of our movement, me, him, him, me, I didn’t need to think about anything, there was nothing to think about, only us.
* * *
‘What time is Viv in?’ I dropped my bag onto the seat of my chair.
It was Monday morning. Emma looked as though she might have had a hard weekend. She briefly swivelled her eyes from her screen. ‘About ten, I think. There’s some kind of meeting this morning.’
‘Oh. Right.’
I heard the slight squeal of wheels as she shunted her chair over towards me.
‘Hang on… Why?’ Her nose was clearly telling her something was up.
I looked round to see who could hear. ‘She wants to see me.’
‘Ah.’ She glanced about her. ‘Have you got a second?’